98 Tiny Frollos
by CATWIZARD
Summary: It's summer break, and my stupid ecology project, a tank with a snail named Frollo, turns into a tank with LOTS of snails named Frollo! So my twisted mind goes: 'What if they were HUMAN' And madness ensues!
1. Clopin: Babysitter From Hades

A ficlet, a useless one, really. Oh, I do not own HoND, not that anyone cares. . .  
  
"Stupid idiot." Catwiz plopped her copy of Notre Dame de Paris back on the floor. Frollo the rat squeaked in objection to being moved and scurried to the sanctuary of his owner's pocket. "The movie is better. No Gring- Gringvierre or how the heck. . ."  
  
She stumbled to her feet, rubbing her head and petting her pocket, when the pop-bottle aquarium on her desk caught her eye.  
  
"Holy crap, they're multiplying!" Indeed, the small water snails in the bottle had tripled in number in the last few days. Catwiz had lately gotten into the habit of naming all her possessions 'Frollo'. Her Puppet, her rat, her snail, her eggbeater. . .Now Frollo the snail had produced several dozen mini-Frollos. . .  
  
"Dad! Dad! Number 74 says his ribbon is longer than mine! Tell him it's not true!"  
  
Frollo sank back into his armchair with a sigh of annoyance. He then took both of the kids' hats and stretched out the ribbons. "See, they're precisely the same!" The minister then wasted no time to point out that his own was longer.  
  
"Off to bed. Both of you!"  
  
The Frollos scamper off into the Palace of Justice, chattering softly.  
  
"Come back here, and _walk_."  
  
Some time later, Frollo Senior stepped out onto a balcony, a gust of fresh air hitting his face and lungs. It was quiet a pleasant relief from the stuffy, kid-infested interior. Savoring the brisk night air, he rubbed his temples and muttered: "What am I going to do with that lot?"  
  
"You just want to get rid of us, don't you?" said a soft female voice. A little Frollo, her face covered in a veil, was standing by her parent's side. Frollo looked down to meet her gaze.  
  
"No, Nooo! Well –Well yes I do. . .But Tak, don't. . .Don't give me that look. . ."  
  
'Tak stared up, black eyes perfectly still. "I don't mind. If you get rid of us. I don't mind."  
  
"Look, just, go . . ." He cleared his thoat. "You. Go to sleep. Now."  
  
"Oh, and 15 and 29 are fighting." Tak walked off, slowly, in an almost depressed fashion. Frollo stared into the sky, and repeated his question to himself. Morning came.  
  
Clopin whacked his puppet across the head. "Shut your trap! Don't you tell me I need a bath!" The children watching him giggled with glee.  
  
From his palace, Frollo hissed a near silent '_Yesss_.'  
  
"Trouillefou."  
  
Clopin tugged at the ropes that restrained him in annoyance. "Ok, for once, _I didn't do anything_!"  
  
"And I did not say you did."  
  
"Well of course you didn't. I'm telling you I didn't—Wait. What?" He stopped struggling and met Frollo's eyes. "You didn't?"  
  
"No, you Gypsy trash! Now, are you good with children, I presume?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah I am. Is that all you wanted?" Clopin hissed, "Why'd you BIND me then?"  
  
"Can you handle a large number?"  
  
"Well, yeah!" Clopin twitched, his feet sliding out of place beneath him. "Can I go now, I got puppets to feed. . ."  
  
"Let us say, 98? Can you do this?"  
  
Clopin's eyes became wide. "W-What?"  
  
"So," said Clopin, stretching out in a chair, sometime later, "Will I get paid?"  
  
Frollo smiled a half-smile. "You will be fed."  
  
"I'm your man."  
  
"Good then. Get ready to meet my horde."  
  
The Gypsy looked around uneasily. "Wait, I-I have to bring some of my belongings up. . ."  
  
"It's done. Your wagon was brought along with you."  
  
"Well," said Clopin, "That's convenient."  
  
Frollo clapped three times. Before Clopin's amazed eyes, 98 children, all looking exactly like Frollo save some difference in their faces, formed a perfect, still line. Frollo walked about, checking to see if any were out of place.  
  
"Goodness, you weren't kidding!" gasped Clopin.  
  
"You! 32! What are you doing in the front! Get back where you belong! Honestly, must I start sewing numbers in your ribbons?!"  
  
Clopin shook his head. "He treats them like dogs. . .like prisoners!"  
  
One of the smaller Frollos, a redhead, sneezed. Frollo Senior strode over snapped in front of his face. The little boy whimpered and straightened out. Frollo motioned for Clopin to follow him.  
  
"This is your bedroom? But- but it's humongous! And it's all gray. . ." Clopin's voice echoed slightly.  
  
Frollo gave him a little push in. "You shall stay here."  
  
"Oh, wow! For once in my life a bed! A bed all to myself!" He stretched out on the colorless sheets. Frollo grabbed his arm.  
  
"GYPSY! How dare you spread your stench on my bed!?"  
  
Clopin sniffed himself and shrugged.  
  
"Where do _Gypsies_ sleep, Trouillefou?" Frollo's lip curled.  
  
Clopin hopped up and began removing the decorative cloth covered in bells around his neck. Frollo shook his head. "No. No, no! Don't- Don't you start doing that in here! You-"  
  
"Relax," said Clopin. He stretched the cloth out between a hook and an iron bench, forming a sort of hammock. "Ok, now I'm good. Bring on the kids!"  
  
Frollo looked him flat in the eyes. "Watch them, Gypsy, make sure nothing happens to them. On your miserable life! I will return tomorrow. Nothing, nothing better go wrong, do you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, yes I hear."  
  
"Good."  
  
The bells of Notre Dame, those wondrous bells, had just struck midnight. Swinging in his hammock, Clopin snickered under his breath. "What was he so annoyed about? These guys are silent as mice!" Something poked him in the ribs.  
  
"Gypsy? _Gypsy_?"  
  
'What?" Clopin recognized the kid who had sneezed. "Oh, it's you, Redhead. Hi. . ."  
  
"My name's not 'Redhead'," said the Frollo, "It's Frollo."  
  
"Well yeah. All of you are named Frollo. . . what's your name?"  
  
"I'm number 36."  
  
"Name?"  
  
"It's. . ." the kid said in a small voice. "It's. . ._Croissant_."  
  
A shiver went through Clopin. "What kind of sick, twisted parent would name their kid _Croissant_?"  
  
The young Frollo leaned over the hammock and smiling, whispered: "Dad ran out of names after the first 30 of us."  
  
"Yes," Clopin said, "the- the '30 of you' . . . Who's your mom?"  
  
Croissant shrugged. "Hey, can I—can I- Well, I'm kinda scared of the dark, but Dad always yells at me for it. . ."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, I was wondering, could I-could I. . .Well, share your hammock?" He flinched, expecting to be scolded.  
  
"Ok, sure. No problem! Come one, little guy. Don't be scared!" The little Frollo stood still in shock, then scrambled up, digging his face into Clopin's shoulder and sighing.  
  
"Hmm." Breathed Clopin, "Hard to believe they're related."  
  
Hope you like. I sorta wrote it at like, 10:00. I really do have like, 60 baby snails. Look forward to Chappy Two all! 


	2. Sesame Biscuit

With a soft moan, Clopin rolled over. No one complained. No one kicked him. He actually had room to move!  
  
"Where the hell am I?"  
  
"Mmmh."  
  
It took Clopin a moment to recollect the events of the past day. He was, at present, still in his 'hammock' in the Palace of Justice. Croissant, it seemed, had curled into a tight ball in his sleep, and lay in the space between Clopin's head and shoulder. The Gypsy gave him a soft poke on the arm.  
  
"Hey kid? Croissant? When do you guys get up?"  
  
"NOW! We get up now!" said a cheery voice. Not Croissant's, but a female's.  
  
Two shiny, dark eyes met Clopin's. "So, kid, what's your face?"  
  
"My-y-y face is pale! But yours isn't, 'cause yo-o-ou're a Gypsy!" The girl's grin became wider. Clopin stared.  
  
"No, I mean, what is your name? I'll have to do this with each one of you, huh?"  
  
"My-y-y name is Sesame Biscuit! What's yours? Huh, Gypsy? Huh, huh?"  
  
"I'm Clopin. Tell me, are all of you named after foods?"  
  
Sesame Biscuit tugged at Clopin's sleeve. "Nope! Now come on, Gypsy! Come on!"  
  
"My NAME is Clopin." Said Clopin with a sigh.  
  
She turned around with yet another grin. "Dad says Gypsies don't deserve to be called by names!"  
  
"Oh," Clopin was beginning to get a bit annoyed. "Then why'd you ask me what it was?"  
  
Sesame Biscuit shrugged and ran off, tugging at Clopin again before she did. Though he had not noticed this in the dark, Clopin saw now, clearly, that the wall opposite his was lined with what appeared to be a never- ending line of tiny, gray lined beds. Most of the little Frollo-esque kids where already milling about like one big, gray-black anthill.  
  
Recalling what Frollo senior had done the day before, Clopin clapped three times. There were many gasps and whimpers, and a long, shaky line was formed. A wave of bows, or, in the case of the females, curtsies greeted Clopin.  
  
"You'd bow to a Gypsy?" Clopin asked, laughing. The children quickly straightened out, and one gave a terrified squeal.  
  
"What kinda twisted upbringing did you have?" He answered his own question immediately. To Frollo, they were nothing more then small, finely-shaped Quasimodos, for he clearly treated them as such. He must have kept his offspring in fear every waking minute. . .  
  
"So how 'bout it? Let's have your names!"  
  
Confused mutters.  
  
"Oh, come on, I won't hurt you, just tell me your names." It was like the time Djali had gotten lodged in the back window of his wagon, and he and Esmeralda had to stand and coax him for a day and a half before the goat squeezed out.  
  
The first Frollo in line spoke. "I'm. . .I'm- um- Jules." The other children became slightly more confident as nothing negative happened.  
  
"Luis"  
  
"Luisa"  
  
"Philippe"  
  
"Hannibal"  
  
"Joanne"  
  
"Michelle"  
  
"Fred"  
  
"George"  
  
"Merry"  
  
"Pippin"  
  
"Jacques"  
  
"Victor"  
  
"Hugo"  
  
"Margot"  
  
"Pierre"  
  
"Isaac"  
  
". . ."  
  
"That's Tak." Said Isaac, pointing to the wailed girl how had not spoken. "She's 'depressed'."  
  
"Leon"  
  
"Roland"  
  
"Nirrissa"  
  
"Agnes"  
  
"Claire"  
  
"Helene"  
  
"Gilles"  
  
"Marc"  
  
"Paul"  
  
"Jean-Pierre"  
  
"Marie-Elise"  
  
"Claude II" a small, pale girl. Clopin stared. "It's transsexual, OK?"  
  
"Pin"  
  
"Pen"  
  
"Strawberry"  
  
"Bell"  
  
"Candle"  
  
"Croissant" said Croissant, who, apparently, had been sitting on Clopin's shoulder.  
  
"Olives"  
  
"Frolic"  
  
"Staples"  
  
"Tin"  
  
"Coal"  
  
"Collie"  
  
"Kettle"  
  
"Mound"  
  
"Purple"  
  
"Grapes"  
  
"Wine"  
  
"Sparrow"  
  
"Blob"  
  
"Erg"  
  
"Hot-Dog"  
  
"Tape"  
  
"Cattle"  
  
"Cheese"  
  
"Cake"  
  
"Cheese-Cake"  
  
"Cake-Cheese"  
  
"Hat"  
  
"Picture"  
  
"Knob"  
  
"Feather"  
  
"Chair"  
  
"Shoe"  
  
"Lumber"  
  
"Phoebus"  
  
"Frodo"  
  
"Sesame Biscuit"  
  
"Cider"  
  
"Tart"  
  
"Sheep-Staples"  
  
"Picture-Blob"  
  
"Kettle-Cake"  
  
"Funnel-Cake"  
  
"Cabbage-Cake" ("Triplets," explained Sesame Biscuit.)  
  
"Trunkles"  
  
"Ant"  
  
"Moose"  
  
"Sheep-Tart"  
  
"Smell"  
  
"Purr" "Large"  
  
"Shiny"  
  
"Help"  
  
"Fishnet"  
  
"Illegal"  
  
"Thing 1"  
  
"Thing 2"  
  
"Feet"  
  
"Rabid"  
  
"Ferrets"  
  
"I'm"  
  
"Running"  
  
"Out"  
  
"Of"  
  
"Names"  
  
"Oh"  
  
"Bloody"  
  
"Bother"  
  
Clopin heaved a sigh. Thank the sweet mother of God there weren't any more!  
  
"Um. . .And I'm Clopin Trouillefou."  
  
98 voices answered: "Hello Gypsy!"  
  
"Do you do EVERYTHING together?  
  
"YES." All the children said, at once.  
  
"Well, said Clopin, "have you thought of being original for a change?" He surveyed the line of kids, who stared at him blankly. Stopping in front of a boy, Clopin tapped him on the shoulder and asked: "What can you do that's special?"  
  
"I dunno." Said the kid, "But I can do everything better than him!" He pointed to another Frollo.  
  
"Can not!"  
  
"Can too!"  
  
"Can not!"  
  
One jumped on the other, and a little wrestling match ensued. Clopin, pulling the two apart, shrugged and addressed the general body of Frollos again.  
  
"So! See, those two can wrestle, yes."  
  
"If Dad commanded us to, we all could do that." Said a voice.  
  
Tak, for the first time had spoken. Her voice was cool, if slightly annoyed. Clopin smiled. Turning to her, he knelt down and looked into her gloomy, brooding eyes. "And you, can you do something?"  
  
"I can. . . . die."  
  
"Ok," said Clopin, getting up, "bad example. Ah! How about you?" He pointed to Sesame Biscuit. "I know you've got a knack at introductions, but I'm certain you've got some wonderful talent!  
  
"I. . ." she began, smiling, "I can _dance_."  
  
All the Frollos, excluding Tak, looked at her in horror. "What's up?" asked Clopin.  
  
"Dancing is _witchcraft_!" Croissant whispered in his ear. The others muttered in agreement.  
  
"What?" yelled Clopin, "What cracked up idiot told you something like-"  
  
All the Frollos exchanged confused looks. Clopin slapped his forehead. Of course, he forgot whom he was dealing with. It was just that the little guys acted nothing like their parent. Surely they could be like all kids, with a bit of help. . .  
  
"Oh, sorry. Now, come here guys, I'm not _all_ bad! Come on!"  
  
Nirrissa crept forward, and, hearing encouragement from the rest, went up and rang one of Clopin's bells. There was much excited muttering.  
  
"See? Nothing wrong!" Clopin smiled, but his smile faded within seconds. The kids had all begun advancing, advancing at an uncomfortably fast rate. Almost like a human tidal wave. . .  
  
"Kids. . .Stop! _STOP_! STO-O-OP!!! **OH GOOD GOD!!!"**  
  
()()()()()()()()  
  
Ooooh. I'm bored again. So I look up French names and stuff. YYAAAWWWN!  
  
Please review! I know you love me! 


	3. A New World To Wreck

It returns. I want my computer account back, cause I'm on Gramma's!!  
  
88888888888  
  
"Ok, you can get off now! Come on! I can't breathe under here!" Indeed Clopin hardly could, as with the large pile of children that had built on top of him. The group quickly retreated, forming a line again, looking at Clopin in terror.  
  
"I-I'm s-so s-s-sorry! Y-you s-said we could! I'm sorry!" One of the kids screamed, nearly hysterical with fear.  
  
"I'm not going to punish you or anything, loosen up!" There were quite a few confused squeals at this suggestion. "When do you guys eat?"  
  
Sesame Biscuit had drawn back with the rest, but spoke up. "W-we usually don't . . .really eat much. Dad says we shouldn't eat more than once a day . . . he says it's bad for us."  
  
Clopin shook his head in disgust. "He starves you too? Good god, of all your rules, this has got to be the most ridiculous! I say eat whatever you can, whenever you can!"  
  
"It is not ridiculous! It's just how Dad likes us to be!" Sesame Biscuit said, angrily. Then she smiled again. "You can eat, though, if you want. Follow me." She tugged on the edge of Clopin's tunic leading, him downstairs.  
  
"So, not trying to insult your father, but, do you realize, the way you live now, --to ordinary people—is just plain freaky." Clopin sighed. Sesame Biscuit turned around and gave him a quizzical look.  
  
"'Ordinary people'?"  
  
"Yeah, ordinary people, average Parisians."  
  
Puppet popped out behind his back. "The middle class!"  
  
"Yeah, and townsfolk."  
  
"And gutter rats!"  
  
"You know, the people you see out in the streets."  
  
The little girl suddenly let go of his hand and pressed against a wall, shaking. "O-out in the- the streets?"  
  
"Yeah, outside, haven't you been there? You live in Paris, you must have been."  
  
Her eyes were growing bigger and bigger. "No!! Dad forbids us to go outside the palace grounds!"  
  
"You're kidding. Why not?"  
  
"If we go outside, we'll get ambushed by thieves or-or some witch will put a curse on us and we'll get some awful disease and _die_!"  
  
Clopin blinked. "Jeez, Frollo feels no remorse in exaggerating, does he?"  
  
"But how do I know you're not just lying!" Sesame Biscuit squeaked. "You're a Gypsy!"  
  
"Listen, Sesame B- Sesame Bis—Oh of all the stupid names, can I just call you Sesame?"  
  
"Hehe. Sure."  
  
"Look Sesame, there is just no way to convince you is there?" Sesme sniffed.  
  
"Show her!" said Puppet.  
  
Clopin looked at his puppet fondly. "There's an idea! I can't tell you guys, but I can show you! That's it, we're going out to the Paris streets!"  
  
"But I-I don't even know you that much! None of us do!"  
  
"Just trust me. Besides, I need a head to think, talk and eat, and hands to steal food and hold Puppet, and Frollo would rid me of both if you guys got hurt," Clopin shuddered at the logic of his own words. "so you guys are safe!"  
  
Sesame, once again, slid into a grin. "Ok then." Clopin smiled back.  
  
"Now, about that food. . ."  
  
A half and hour and about 20 sandwiches later, all the Frollos were trooped out, confused, noisy, but a bit happy. When out in the open, Clopin noted, there seemed to be twice as many of them. Of course they wouldn't hear his clapping out here, in all the hustle and bustle. They were out of Frollo's world, so Clopin could start using his own methods. He leapt atop a barrel and raised his arms.  
  
"Ladies and Lords, Bums and Wenches! Whoever you may be!" The people froze at this call. "Will all of you with the name of Frollo come forward now!"  
  
The kids assembled before him, and there was much chattering and pointing from both the Frollos and the crowd.  
  
"Ok, you feel free to mill about, but keep in sight of me, got it?"  
  
There were nods and mutters of agreement. Clopin scratched his head.  
  
"Now come on, we're going-" He stopped. "Uh, we are going. . ."  
  
"Home?" said a Frollo.  
  
"To stand there?" said another.  
  
"To have a good time?" piped one?  
  
"To Hell for messing with a Gypsy?" asked Tak.  
  
"To the Notre Dame?" suggested Croissant.  
  
"To get sick?"  
  
Puppet mutely pointed to a bakery.  
  
"Yes!" said Clopin. "Like Puppet said! We're going _shopping_!"  
  
888888888888  
  
Thus ends chappy 3!  
  
Review me, mortals! 


End file.
